Felino Soriano		Painters’ Exhalations 45 —after Ernie Barnes’ Study: the Bassist Lover of echoes of shadows saying listen beyond my flat conjecture, lover of self of musical bodies naked in their twirling copy of cigarette’s poisonous spirits rising above their fiery masticating tips, swelling from inhaling winds settling within the lungs unmeant to visualize amid venomous fog. Innate or learned rhythm, he fantasizing of meshing with drummer’s and pianist’s esoteric conversation, driving signs of fractioned time behind the vehicle of soloing trumpet’s multilingual tongue. This is life, the musical existence a focus caveat foreign to the listener unaware of obligated loneliness, genius with the specialized hands.		Painters’ Exhalations 43 (after Caspar David Friedrich’s Monk by the Sea) Monstrous interwoven shadow encased on the pondering forehead of sky’s triangular responsibilities: light, imagination, constant. Oracle on walking feet far from the absent avifauna gone to feed among the silver bellies fish mimic in diamonds’ highly respected luster. Meditation over the silence of hand-holding breaths waves exhale through foamed vernacular spraying hazy afterthoughts against the body’s self, a mathematical solution to dissipation’s vulgar appearance. He, the lone whisperer harvesting thoughts expected of examination towards the earth’s farthest physical horizon. Sand grain size and apparitional during fog’s landing squat, joining atmospheric condensation, abbreviating time spent atop a singular destination. Prize this moment, this tabletop of earth devoted to the recluse. Awash, I imagine: rectify what yesterday caused you to find this position of cavernous contemplation.